Scene 64, Take 3.

i suppose i am simply called to be a wandering soul. a plan-less, goal-less, motivation-less soul.
i also suppose that sounds depressing.
i believe that if that is my soul: that i must observe some sort of life changing and shifting. something to where my current lifestyle, of purely living and trying to be comfortable, (which is simply not working out) is demolished and replaced by a new one. a lifestyle to which i am unaware of the name, and unaware of how to get there.
before writing this, i had already decided that tomorrow i would purge my belongings. i suppose that also sounds depressing. but actually, it's rather compelling; exciting; rejuvenating.

it is interesting to look at my life now and see such a different scene and act. i question if i am still participating in the same show as before, or if this one has taken just a drastic turn. i already know the answer.
i often think of being unworthy; of asking myself if i am actually 'saved' by my faith. it pressures me to analyze my actions, thoughts, and feelings about... everything. it may be a silly thought of questioning faith, but it occurs. if may also seem harsh on myself; and that i should not think that way because i AM saved, but... it does occur.
but then, it was just last week that i had a realization that 'hey, i AM saved' and felt confident that this was different than the old scene. i have truly taken a drastic turn in life where my actions, thoughts, and feelings are very different than they were before. where i once had nothing, i have everything-through Christ.
it may particularly amuse me that one night changes a life forever. very few things remained present in my life after the turning- i still drop a curse word, or make a joke, or even slip a drink, but what's behind it- is SO different.
that is the thought and feeling part; the part in life that backs up and initiates the actions. those are where i changed. those are where i am different. i am new. i have light.
a new scene in the show of life.

Esther 4:16

When Esther's words were reported to Mordecai, he sent back this answer: "Do not think that because you are in the king's house you alone of all the Jews will escape. For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father's family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to royal position for such a time as this?"

Then Esther sent this reply to Mordecai: "Go, gather together all the Jews who are in Susa, and fast for me. Do not eat or drink for three days, night or day. I and my maids will fast as you do. When this is done, I will go to the king even though it is against the law. And if I perish, I perish."

So Mordecai went away and carried out all of Esther's instructions.

A Story.

When I begin a story, I never start with a full idea. My writing instructor says that's the way you are suppose to write, specifically in the unconscious state, and that I do a fine job. As much as I try, I am rarely satisfied. She also says to write in the 'wounds'; very good advice if you ask me. Speaking OR writing, everyone gets fired-up and passionate about something that has hit home with them–at times, a wound. I've found that the author, is always one character in their stories. Never the main, but always there, watching the scenes go down.

My last story, I was VERY satisfied with, received a good grade, but was also hit with much discouragement on my style. Everyone's a critic.

I actually began this blog to let out all the things I normally don't write about. Or, in tonight's case, to let out the things that I cannot tell Sari because she is asleep (or simply not listening).

I always base a story off of something that I have seen; not the exact place and no specific details, but they are always very similar when I am describing them and seeing them in my head. I imagine it like the architecture they describe in the movie Inception–if I am to write too much from memory, as in exact places, then my characters will shoot back at me; my readers will begin to develop their own story with their own memories; and I will begin writing non-fiction instead of something good.

Since she doesn't read my blog, I feel it is okay to state that my current story is based inside my sister's house in Bend, OR. The first floor has the same set up as in hers, with a main living room that opens up to the kitchen. The stairwell is also placed in the same place, but because the story is set farther back in time, the stairwell is old, and spiral, and not just carpet. I wonder if she minds...

Also, since nobody reads my blog (I think, maybe Sarah... and Debbie), my last story was about the boy I am completely in love with. And in the story, which I actually posted some of below, the couple run away together to a small town that they have never been, and start new lives. Needless to say, that will never happen in my own life.

But that's why they call it fiction. And that's why I love writing it. The entire universe is at the tip of my pen.